


All in Your Head

by Guywhowritesgay



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, M/M, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, Watford (Simon Snow)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27123913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guywhowritesgay/pseuds/Guywhowritesgay
Summary: Simon Snow wakes up in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by familiar people...could it really be true that everything he's experienced has been all in his head?
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 18
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first real fic and I'm super excited for it. I dont know how often I will update it but I'm going to make it as often as possible.

Simon woke up to white walls. 

White walls and blinding bright lights.

After taking a minute to adjust to the abrupt change in scenery, he looked around. The first thing he noticed is that he was on a rather comfortable bed with a soft blue blanket that contrasted the pale room, and a paper-thin top sheet that probably did nothing to keep anyone warm. This room was nothing like his Watford dorm. Where was he...

He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He was alone. No stuck-up roommate in the corner, criticizing him for oversleeping, nor the ever-present smell of cedar and bergamot from said roommate’s horrendously long showers. No, this room was different.

_Where was he?!_

The door swung open and someone walked in, his head down and a clipboard in hand. He was wearing a white doctor’s coat over a green button up shirt, and boots that looked all too inappropriate with his professional outfit.

“Right, let’s get this over with,” the man sighed, still not looking up.

That voice... Simon knew that voice...

“How are you this morning, Simon?” The man asked, looking up. 

Simon’s breath caught in his throat. The Mage was staring back at him, stupid moustache and all. 

“I—“ Simon’s voice came out dry and cracked, like it hadn’t been used much. His throat felt like it had been washed out with saltwater and then had all evidence of any moisture removed. He looked feverishly around the room again, as if trying to make sure The Mage was seeing what he was seeing. “Sir where am I?”

The Mage cocked an eyebrow. 

“Well, that’s certainly new,” he muttered, looking down at his clipboard and scribbling furiously. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, taking a brief pause from writing to look up at Simon, who was still sitting perfectly frozen in utter confusion.

“Uhh...fine? Sir, where am I?” Simon asked again. He had to clear his throat after every few words, working the muscles back to being used. He knew The Mage had never been the best at direct answers, but he hoped that maybe, _just maybe_ , he could get some details as to where he was, and maybe more importantly, _why_ he was here.

The Mage made no effort to reply to his question, which, honestly, Simon should have expected. “Are you seeing or hearing anything unusual?” He asked instead. Simon stared at him blankly. _What_?

“You mean other than this strange room I’ve never been in before, no?” He looked at him. “Where’s Baz, why am I not in my dorm?” 

“I’m glad to see you recovering, Simon, this is indeed a splendid breakthrough.” He wrote more on the clipboard. 

Simon tried to catch a glimpse of what was being written, but it was such horrible handwriting, and he was at such a bad angle that he couldn’t make out anything. He crossed his arms across his chest and sat back.

“Please, sir. Where am I?” Simon asked once again, desperate for an answer. 

“I...” The Mage mumbled as he finished scribbling and looked up. “Am Dr. Davy Mage, and you, Simon Snow, have been a long-term patient here at Watford Psychiatric.”

* * *

_“Tell me, Simon. Do you know what a mage is?”_

_Simon bounced his red rubber ball and looked at the man before him. He was dressed as...well...Simon didn’t know. Was it a costume? It looked kind of like an off-brand Robin Hood costume._

_He shook his head slowly, and the man smiled gently._

_“I’m sure you know what wizards are, right?” He asked. Simon smiled a bit and nodded._

_“Well, Simon, a mage is like a wizard. But unlike wizards...” he looked at the young boy. “Mages are real.”_

_Simon didn’t know how to react. How is one supposed to react when a strange man in a weird outfit tells you magic is real. What was that phrase? Stranger danger?_

_“Okay...?” He said, and bounced his rubber ball against the floor again. It hit a loose nail and bounced off, down the room and under some other kid’s bed. Simon leapt off his own bed and got on his hands and knees to begin looking for it, but the man who had been talking to him put his hand on Simon’s shoulder, stopping him._

_“Allow me.” The man took out a smooth stick embellished with carved design. Simon stared at it. Was it..._ alive _? It had an energy to it that felt all too familiar, yet Simon was sure he’d never felt before. The man pointed the stick (the_ wand _?) down the room and spoke with a degree of conviction that Simon had never heard anyone ever use before._

 _“ **Come out, come out wherever you are** ,” and as if by magic— or perhaps, maybe it _was _magic, Simon’s red ball came whizzing back to them, landing with a_ smack _in the man’s hand._

_“People call me The Mage. I’m kind of like...the prime minister of the magical world. And I’m also the headmaster of Watford School of Magics.” The man— The Mage said. Simon looked mystified as he was given back his ball._

_“So...I’m a wizard?” He asked, looking up at The Mage._

_“Even better, you’re a mage.” The Mage said._

_“If I’m a mage...why are you called The Mage. Isn’t that like calling the queen The Human?” Simon asked, looking down at his hands. The Mage laughed. It was a spirited laugh, one that made Simon smile._

_“I suppose it is a bit like that, yes. Now I do need to tell you something very important. You’re special, Simon. You aren’t like other mages.” Simon looked him in the eyes. The Mage had kind eyes. Ones that gave a feeling of warmth and security. Simon felt he could ask him anything and be given an answer. He’d never felt a connection like this with anyone else he’d met in his 11 years. “You’re the Chosen One.”_

_Those words had no meaning to Simon. “Okay?”_

_“There’s a darkness in our world, we call it the Insidious Humdrum—“_

_Simon laughed a bit. The Mage didn’t. Simon stopped._

_“We call it the Insidious Humdrum,” The Mage continued. “And only you can stop it. And I came here for you today so that I can take you away to this special school, one for people like you and me, where you will learn to be an incredible mage. Understand?”_

_Simon hesitated but nodded slowly. “When do we leave? Because I don’t know if the people in this care home will like it if I go to study magic, I’m already the odd one out here. Do I come back here every day after school…?”_

_“They don’t know— can’t know you’re magic, Simon, and no, you will be living at the school with a roommate. We leave right now, if you’re ready.” The Mage said. Simon bit his lip while he was thinking. He bounced the ball again. It hit the floor over and over with a soft thunk each time._

_“I mean...I suppose it’s better than this place,” Simon mumbled, looking over the dusty room littered with other kids’ things. He’d never had something truly of his own here. Toys were shared, meals were often fought over...even when he would sleep, other kids would wake him up. Was this man telling the truth? And could he really be that important? Only one way to find out... “Let’s go.”_

_“Excellent!” The Mage beamed. “Pack your things, we’re off to Watford!”_

* * *

Watford Psychiatric?

 _Psychiatric_?

Simon let those words run through his head over and over. 

“N-no, I can’t— no I go to a school called Watford,” he started to explain. “Watford School—“

“Watford School of Magics, yes I’m aware of the name.” Dr. Mage sighed. “You’re quite fond of it.”

“So why am I here and not there? I’ve never heard of Watford Psychiatric, is it related to the school?” Simon stared down the man in front of him. Was this some kind of sick joke? Surely his mentor was kidding. Maybe this was another Humdrum attack? But Simon felt no magic in the air.

“Simon I’m going to put this simply,” Dr. Mage sighed again. He sighed a lot, and just looked uninterested overall. His eyes were tired. No longer the bright-eyed man with a million answers to a world Simon longed for; instead a doctor viewing the world through a weary, bloodshot perspective sat before him. “The school you thought you’ve been going to isn’t real. You’ve seemingly just snapped out of a long-term psychosis. I’ll send more doctors to have you looked at momentarily. Breakfast will be delivered to you, as usual, by one of the other kids your age here at the hospital.” He tucked the clipboard and all its mysterious scribbles under his arm and walked back out of the room without so much as a goodbye.

When he left, all that followed was the deafening silence of the bare room and Simon’s own thoughts. Thoughts that he knew were true. They had to be. They were real. He remembered them far too well for them all to be some sort of- some sort of hallucination. He felt things, he remembered things. He…

This was all too much, he had to think about something else for a minute.

Simon looked around the room fully for the first time. There was hardly a hint of color, save for the blue blanket on top of him. It was all white. Pure, blinding white. A colour so undiluted it could render you blind if you stared for too long. Simon resisted that temptation. He lowered his eyes and looked down at his hands, instead. 

Everything in this room seemed… safe. Bland. Uninteresting. Like someone was worried Simon would go crazy if there was even so much as a painting hanging on the wall. 

This room, whatever and wherever it was, had nothing in common with his Watford room. Here, he was on edge. At Watford he felt safe, because of the calming familiarity. He relied on the familiar sound of the merwolves fighting for their first meal of the day below his window. He relied on feeling the rough, thin blankets scratching at his skin. He relied on the fact that every day he’d wake up and his nemesis would be getting dressed or coming out of the shower and they’d bicker and pretend to be able to ignore each other.

Simon shook away those thoughts for the moment and looked down at what he was wearing. A plain, clean white t-shirt and a pair of white trousers. Of course they were white, like everything else in the goddamn room. It almost felt like a joke that he didn’t quite understand. A cruel prank the universe was playing, like some cosmic being was using him as entertainment, nudging their friends and saying things like _“hey, get a load of this wanker!”_

He swung his feet off the bed and landed bare on the somehow cold carpeted floor. This room was a tomb. Devoid of life in every aspect of the word, so much so that not even warmth would dare to reside there. He was afraid that if he had a mirror, he’d find himself looking like some undead thing— well… some _ugly_ undead thing. Not everything dead was gruesome.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and it swung open to reveal— to Simon’s pleasant surprise— a face Simon knew very well. A wave of ease washed over him.

“Penny!” He smiled, and ran up to her. She took a few steps back, eyeing him wearily. 

“Uh...hi?” She looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “I’m...here to bring you your breakfast... as...usual?” 

Simon’s smile fell as he noticed her cautiousness around him. “What’s wrong?” 

“Just surprised to see you out of bed, that’s all,” she said. “It was my day to bring you breakfast, so uhhh...breakfast.” She shoved a container and a water bottle in his hands and turned to walk away without another word. 

“Wait Penny!” Simon called after her. He took a few steps down the hallway, but stopped when she had made it clear she didn’t want to be followed. Had he done something wrong?

“It’s Penelope.” She said sharply without looking back. 

Simon watched her walk off, frowning. That...was his best friend. Right? 

* * *

_“That’s backwards.”_

_Simon turned behind to look at who had spoken. A girl he’d never seen before was looking at his wand, pity in her eyes._

_“S-sorry?” He asked, his hand trembling while holding his wand._

_“Your wand. You’re holding it backwards. You’ll spell yourself stupid like that.”_

_Simon examined the girl he was talking to. She had a large purple ring on one hand. It looked entirely too large on her, but he could feel the magical energy coming from it. She spoke with confidence. Maybe too much confidence for a kid, but she wore it well._

_“I-oh, um...thanks. I’m...uh... Simon...” he said, offering a slight smile._

_“I know. I’m Penelope Bunce. My mum told me not to talk to you.” She said simply._

_“Oh?” Simon felt like he’d been punched in the gut. One day into being a mage and he’d already made people mad. Great. Just great._

_“I’m going to talk to you anyway, because I feel sorry for you. Turn your wand around, you dolt,” she said, reaching over the desk to do it for him._

_Simon felt an embarrassed flush rise to his cheeks. His wand_ did _feel better in his hand like this._

_“You’re going to have to know basic things like that if you want to be the Chosen One.” She said, adjusting her glasses as she talked. Simon made eye contact with her, and could tell she was strong. She had a strong will, and strong magic, and a strong sense of who she was in the world._

_“I s’pose...” Simon mumbled and looked to the front of the classroom. He felt lost compared to her._

_“Is it true you were a Normal? Or your parents were Normal?” She asked. “Do you even know anything about the world of mages?”_

_“I know...some things...” Simon felt out of place. He knew he’d make a terrible mage. This conversation was just proof of what a disaster he was going to be._

_“You know about The Humdrum right? That’s all my mum and dad can talk about these days.” Penny kept rattling on. It was clear she was so happy to have a friend that didn’t know as much as she did, and whom she could lecture._

_Simon sighed and didn’t look back at her. One day he’d figure out all this mage stuff._

_One day._

———

Simon set the container of food down on the bed and began to drink his water. Without even pausing to breathe, he downed the whole bottle. He hadn’t realized how parched he’d been until he took the first sip of water. It was like he’d been wandering through the desert for years on end, and had finally found an oasis in the shape of a plastic bottle.

He eyed the food in the container— 8 orange wedges, yoghurt and a chocolate protein bar. He didn’t have the stomach to eat them right now. Everything was a bit...overwhelming. He didn’t know what to believe. He put his head in his hands and attempted to sort through all the thoughts that were running top speed through his head.

There was just no way that all this was true. 

There’s no way he could be a patient here. He’d been at Watford every year since he was 11. He’d been in care homes before that. He had friends, like Penny, and a girlfriend— Agatha. The Mage had been his mentor, and there was Ebb...

Just yesterday, he’d been in Professor Minos’s class. He’d eaten lunch and dinner with Penny (dinner was roast beef, and there were no scones, much to Simon’s disappointment), and they walked out on the courtyard together. He had been worried— no...paranoid, about Baz, who hadn’t yet shown his face this year. Simon figured it was just Old Family drama, but he couldn’t help but feel like something else was up. Penny told him not to worry about it, like she always does, but Agatha had stopped talking to him, and he was sure Baz had something to do with it. Baz always had something to do with it, even when Simon couldn’t prove it.

It was so real...

All of it had been _so real_ to him. How could The Mage— Dr. Mage expect him to believe he’d been in this building for so many years... 

There was the dragon, and there was The Humdrum...football, and classes, and—

Another knock on the door. 

Simon looked up from where he had had his head in his hands, mumbling to himself about truths and realities.

In the doorway stood a very tall boy, probably about his age. Long, silky black hair tied up behind him in a messy bun, and big glasses taking up a good chunk of his face. He had a kind smile spread across his face, and beautiful reddish-golden skin. No imperfections anywhere.

Simon didn’t recognize him at first, but his eyes widened in utter shock when he realized who stood before him. They had locked eyes, and Simon was suddenly drowning in a sea of grey. He wanted to scream at him; to run up to him and knock him over; to touch him; to prove he was real. He wanted to do so much that he couldn’t help but sit paralyzed on the all-too-comfortable bed as he stared into those sweet stormy eyes. Eyes that were more alive than he knew was possible.

In the doorway stood his insufferable roommate, the bane of his life, his worst enemy (beside the humdrum), Baz _fucking_ Pitch.


	2. Chapter 2

Simon jumped to his feet and instinctively reached his hand to his hip, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there.  That too?

“Simon?” Baz froze.  _ That was wrong _ . Baz saying his name was just... _ wrong _ . Simon had always been Snow to him. For 7 years, he’d heard that posh bastard refuse to call him by anything but his surname.  It was something he thought that he hated; now he misses it.

And that wasn’t even the extent of what was just wrong with what Simon saw. The glasses, for starters, and sloppy bun...those weren’t Baz. Where was the hair gel and stuffy suits he always wore? Why were his posh jackets replaced with a doctor's coat? 

Simon glared at him. “What are you doing here?” He stared into the raging storm of Baz’s eyes.  Feelings flickering faster through them than Simon could comprehend. Rage, relief, anger, and so many more that he couldn’t name.

Baz didn’t respond, but rather took a few steps forward towards Simon. “Are you...can you see me?” He asked slowly, his eyes wide and his hands trembling.

“I can see you’re not minding your business, as usual,” Simon snapped , taking a step back . He waited for Baz to say something snarky in return, but nothing came.

Instead Baz started to... _ cry? _

And before Simon could process what was happening, Baz had lunged forward and pulled him into a hug. Simon froze while trying to process his current situation. 

He shoved Baz away and looked at him. “What the bloody hell was that?” He asked. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Simon, I don’t know if you...know who I am but I’m B—“ 

“Baz fucking Pitch, I know who you are,” Simon scowled. “The git who thinks he’s all high and mighty because he’s the best at everything! I’ve had a rough day and I  _ don’t  _ need you here to make it worse.”

Baz looked hurt, but Simon didn’t notice. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have come here. I heard Dr. Mage telling Nurse Petty that you were out of bed, and— and not like you have been for so long… so I figured… I’d stop by…” he looked down at his shoes, avoiding eye contact with the very angry Simon standing in front of him.  Simon furrows his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, I’d assumed that after all these years, you’d come to and we’d be friends.”

Simon watched Baz walk out of the room, shoulders sagging and spirits shattered. 

Surely Baz was fucking with him. 

* * *

_ “Simon, you’re being absurd. We’re 15, he’s not trying to kill you.”  _

_ “Penny. That was a  _ chimera.  _ A bloody  _ chimera.  _ How is that not a murder attempt,” Simon asked angrily while shoving another scone into his mouth. “I could have died.” _

_ “You don’t have proof that it was Baz who sent the chimera, first of all, and secondly, hasn’t The Mage already put you through worse stuff?”  _

_ “It’s not just the chimera, Penny. This morning he left his razor by the sink, right where my comb was. He clearly wants me to get hurt.” Simon said through a mouthful of food _ _ , accidentally spitting some crumbs out while talking. Penny grimaces and wipes away the crumbs before continuing to talk _ _. _

_ “I hear what you’re saying, but… I think that  _ maybe _ you’re looking too far into things. Besides, there’s the anth—“ _

_ “Yes I know, I  _ know _ there’s the anthema, so that’s why he’s trying to do things that could just have easily been an accident. I’m telling you Penny—“ _

_ Simon paused, mid-chew. Across the dining room, Baz was glaring at him, his dead grey eyes scanning every inch of Simon’s golden skin. Of course Simon didn’t know what Baz was thinking, so he simply flipped him off from across the hall.  _ _ Baz scoffs and rolls his eyes and focuses back on his food and chatting with Dev and Niall. Simon glares at him from afar before focusing back on Penny. _

_ “You’re so immature. You can’t beat the Humdrum if you can’t even get through one day without bickering with him.” Penny finished the last of her food and stood up so she could clean her place. “Try having a conversation. Learn what he’s like as a person.” _

_ “He’s not a person!” Simon insisted, but Penny waved him off,  _

_ “Try reading a book he likes. The library is free,” she said, adding a little sing-song to her voice towards the end. Simon let out an exasperated groan and took a bite of another scone _ _ after covering it with a generous amount of butter _ _.  _

_ Baz was up to something. Simon wasn’t sure what, but he knew he’d find out. _

_ Later that day, Baz tripped Simon in the mud and laughed.  _

_ “Oh I’m sorry, Chosen One. Did I mess up those perfect golden curls of yours?” Baz jeered and walked on past while Simon pulled himself off the ground. He took a few deep breaths and just barely managed to stop himself from going off. With each steady inhale and exhale, he forced away his magic.  _

_ Once he was calmer, he let out a huff and walked quickly to his dorm to change. Thankfully Baz wasn’t in there, so Simon quickly threw on a new blazer and trousers and dropped the muddy ones on the floor by his bed— he’d clean them up later. Right now he had to race to class.  _

_ During said class, Baz was staring at Simon the whole time. Plotting, no doubt. Simon could feel his rival’s eyes pierce the back of his neck. He wanted to turn around and yell at the prick to bug off, but he knew he’d be creating a scene. So he just had to let those stormcloud eyes watch him for the rest of class. _

_ Simon avoided the dorm once class was over. Baz was there. When Baz wasn’t there, Simon avoided the dorm, because he was trying to find Baz, so that he could know best how to avoid him. So began this cycle, the two boys more at odds than they’d ever been.  _

* * *

In the next few hours, teams of doctors and nurses streamed in and out of the room, asking Simon questions. He saw The Mage again, along with Ebb and various faces he recognized from around the school. He was beyond stressed, trying to figure out which reality he believed.

Magic or insanity. We’re those really his two options? And was it really a question as to which he’d prefer?

Voices swirled around him, and the rush of doctors coats and busy nurses was giving him a headache. The noises were too much. The lights were too bright. The voices were tossing around terms he couldn’t understand, or if he did understand, he wished that they weren’t talking about him. 

But they were.

Nothing made sense anymore. 

“Simon, how do you feel?” 

“Simon, look at me.” 

“Simon, I need to ask you some questions.”

“Simon, I’m going to take a blood sample.”

“Simon, how do you feel?”

“Simon, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“Simon, I’m going to need you to look this way.”

“Simon, what did you experience all these years?”

“Simon, how do you feel?”

“Simon, are you okay?”

“Simon, what was it like?”

“ _ Simon, how do you feel _ ?” Someone was standing...talking... Someone… somewhere in the room… he tried to find who spoke but there were too many people… too many… 

“I- I need to lie down…” he muttered, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. Two doctors caught him and brought him back over to his bed. 

“Everyone, clear out, the poor kid has had enough,” Nurse Petty said, shooing everybody out of the room. People gathered clipboards and various medical instruments and vacated the room, muttering and discussing the unconscious boy. 

Before Nurse Petty left the room, she walked over to Simon’s bed and brushed a few curls out of his face. “Welcome back to the real world, kid. You’re in for a hell of a ride…” she sighed and left the room.

  
  
  


Hours later, when Simon opened his eyes, he was alone. He took a minute to let his eyes adjust to the dark before he sat up with a groan.

“Oh you’re awake!” 

Simon’s head snapped to the sound of the voice. In the corner of the room, enveloped in shadows, was Baz, with his long legs neatly folded and a rather large book in his hands. A textbook, it seemed. Leave it to Baz to study at any hour of the day. What time was it anyways?

Simon groaned again and flopped back on the bed. “What do you want Baz,” he grumbled and covered his face with his hands.

“I— nothing. I’m so sorry, Simon, if I surprised you by being here. I’d hate for us to get off on the wrong foot after all these years.” He laughed a bit and Simon froze.

Baz laughed.

Basilton Pitch laughed.

And it wasn’t out of malicious hatred or spite.  It was a genuine laugh. Simon froze for a second, trying to process this new sound.

Baz cleared his throat and stood up, setting down the textbook in the chair and taking off his doctor’s coat. He stepped out into the light where Simon could see him a bit better. That is— if Simon removed his hands from his face.

“Take another step towards me and I’ll slit your throat,” Simon warned as Baz had begun walking towards his bed. “I don’t care about the stupid roommate rule.”

Baz didn't listen to him. At least that much was the same. Simon felt a weight at the foot of his bed, and looked up to see Baz sitting there.

“Simon, listen. I know you don’t know me at all, but I want you to know that I only want what’s best for you. If you want, I can introduce myself to you properly, would that help?” Baz looked at Simon with so much emotion. Simon hadn’t been sure Baz was capable of any emotion until this point .

“I know you already, stop pretending like I don’t. Stop pretending like this isn’t some Humdrum attack.” Simon threw off the blue blanket covering him on his bed and he got up to get away from Baz. 

“Stop pretending like you’re not going to spell me stupid the minute I turn my back.” Simon was bubbling with anger. He started to pace around the room, letting off some of his steam. This is how he’d stopped himself from going off so many times.  Simon scowls, focusing himself on here and now, in this bloody  _ mental hospital _ with Baz in the room. Baz trying to be civil to him, at that.

__

__

“Simon, please. I know this is a lot for you to take in right now, okay? Just look at me. I can—“ Simon whirled around to look at him.

__

__

“ _ Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch _ , don’t you fucking think for one bloody second that you get to tell me what to do.” He spat. 

__

__

For the second time that day, Baz looked like he’d been punched in the gut. Simon’s words echoed in the air as Baz fell silent and still.

__

__

“Don’t call me that,” he said in the faintest whisper. 

__

__

Simon was taken aback by the abrupt change in Baz’s usually rock solid demeanor. “That’s your name, though…”

__

__

“Only my mum called me...by my full name,” Baz now had a faraway look in his eyes. Simon was unsure how to proceed. 

__

__

“Uh… sorry,” he mumbled. 

__

__

“ ‘s okay. It’s just… after she…” he sighed, clearly suppressing tears. Simon could hear that tears were caught in his throat. “After I lost her, you were the only person I could talk to. For 13 bloody years, I came here almost every day.” Hair fell in his face, but he didn’t bother to adjust it. “I guess we’re both not ready for reality.”

__

__

Baz got up and walked out, leaving Simon stunned and alone once again.

__

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I just want to say I took out a line that didn’t sit quite right with me. Nothing major changed :P


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and cuts off abruptly because I just needed to write something so I don’t feel bad

_ It was 6th year. _

_ No… it was 7th year… _

_ Simon sat with Penny and Agatha, eating and laughing together.  _

_ Agatha was wearing a nice dress.  _

_ No, Agatha hadn’t been there. It was Simon and Penny, eating and laughing together. And it was 6th year.  _

_ Or was it 7th year… _

_ ——— _

Simon threw a pillow at the wall and groaned in frustration.  _ “Don't leave this room _ ”, Dr. Mage had told him. So Simon stayed. It had been a few days since he first woke up in the hospital, and each day he got more and more frustrated.

Each day he’d wake up remembering less of Watford.

“I still remember the big things,” he told Nurse Petty when she came into his room. “Like I remember the football pitch, and the scones, and classes and stuff…” he sighed.

“So what is it that you’re forgetting?” She asked. Simon relaxed at her voice. For so many years, he’d visit her and relax, so he was glad that now was no different.

“Just...things. Like a spell I was thinking of. I can’t remember what spell is used to lace up someone’s trainers.” He said. Nurse Petty laughed a bit. 

“I think it’s phenomenal that you managed to create a whole reality inside your head. You could write stories about it one day. Or I could see if I could get you a notepad if you wanted to write things down.” She was writing something— some medical bullshit— on a clipboard as she talked to him.

“No thanks,” Simon mumbled. 

“It is a good sign, though, that you seem to be more in touch with reality here. I know it must be a right scare to wake up and have everyone you know be different.” She smiled gently. “Like Natasha’s boy. Saw him outside your room the other day, poor kid was upset, said you were still caught up in your whole ‘magic school’.”

“It was real, though!” Simon protested. He groaned and sighed dramatically. “It was— it  _ is _ real!”

Nurse Petty frowned just a bit, sympathetically. “Simon—“

“No!” He shouted. “I’m tired of this, I’ve been in this room for days, where people have been telling me I made it all up. I’m leaving.”

Nurse Petty sighed as Simon stormed out of the room and down the hallway. She sighed and went to go bring her report to Dr. Mage. 

Simon walked into the patient lounge, where a few people who were checked into Watford Psychiatric were mingling and talking with each other. His eyes swept the room, surveying everyone. 

Faces he knew from Watford (the school, not this bloody Psychiatric center) crowded the lounge. People laughed, and talked, and joked around, but Simon now stood dumbfounded. 

In the corner of the room, sitting in a chair by a table against the wall, was none other than Agatha Wellbelove. She had her cheek resting in her hand and was twirling some hair around one of her fingers. Simon knew that look. She was out-of-her-mind bored.

So he walked over to her. 

“Aggie?” He asked tentatively as he approached her. She jumped and looked up.

“Simon? What— wait, when...what are you doing out of bed?” She sat up straight as Simon slipped himself into a chair across from her. 

“Oh, uhh...I was told I woke up from some weird psychosis/coma thing. That was like...5 days ago maybe…” he shrugged. 

“Oh. So how did you know my name?” She asked. Simon sat back in his chair. 

“You...well...we’re...dating, right?” He asked, meeting her eyes. She scrunched up her nose and shook her head.

“I think the doctors need to give you another once-over,” she said. Simon watched her eyes cloud with amusement. 

“Oh, sorry I…” Simon looked down at his hands. Agatha laughed a little bit. 

“Hey, it’s fine. I mean… I would sneak off to your room every now and then whenever I’m in this stupid place. It was quiet in there,” she said. “Except for every now and then when you would mumble about magic or Nurse Pitch.”

Agatha tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as Simon dissected the words she’d just said.

“Wait,  _ Nurse  _ Pitch?” He asked, and Agatha laughed and blushed a bit. 

“Yeah. Well…no, he’s not a nurse yet, technically. He’s still studying but he gets hands on experience here…” she let a small smile ghost her lips. “He is so smart… we’ve known each other since we were little.”

Simon’s eyes roamed her face. He noticed her cheeks were flushed. The blacks of her eyes were large and full of adoration, and her smile grew bigger with every second. 

“How come?” He asked stupidly. Not that it was a stupid question, Simon just wasn’t graceful with words, so it came tumbling out of his mouth like a sack of bricks. 

Agatha’s expression darkened. “I’ve been...in and out of this building my whole life.” She offered no other explanation, so Simon let the topic trail off.

  
  



End file.
